"Thank you. For everything. For risking your life to help me."
"You're my best friend. My brother in everything but blood. Of course I'm helping." He headed for the door. "Just try not to break your hands before we need them to pull triggers."
He left. I stood there alone in the gym, blood still dripping from my knuckles, chest still heaving.
Three and a half weeks until the wedding. Less than two weeks until we made our move.
The clock was ticking. Loud and relentless.
But I was done being helpless. Done watching my father manipulate and control and destroy.
Time to become the predator instead of the prey.
Time to show him exactly what kind of monster he'd created when he'd trained me to be just like him. Only difference was, I had something he'd never had. Something that made me more dangerous than he could imagine.
I had people I loved. People I'd do anything to protect. People who made me willing to sacrifice everything.
Love made me vulnerable. But it also made me unstoppable and my father was about to learn that lesson the hard way.
I unwrapped my hands. Watched blood mix with sweat on the gym floor.
Three and a half weeks.
Then everything changed and I'd either save us all or die trying.
But one way or another, Aria wasn't marrying my father. That was the one thing I was absolutely certain of.
Even if I had to burn down the entire world to make it true.
Chapter Twenty
ARIA
Living in Salvatore's wing was a special kind of psychological torture that no amount of beautiful furniture could disguise.
My suite was objectively gorgeous. Silk curtains in deep burgundy. Antique furniture that probably cost more than most people made in a year. A four-poster bed with sheets that felt like sleeping on clouds. A bathroom with marble everything and a tub big enough to drown in.
A gilded cage was still a cage, no matter how expensive the bars.
The worst part was the shared sitting room. The door that connected my suite to Salvatore's master bedroom. Unlocked on his side. A constant reminder that he could walk through whenever he wanted. That nothing here was truly mine. That I existed at his pleasure, in his space, under his complete control.
He hadn't tried anything yet beyond casual touches. A hand on my shoulder when he passed. Fingers on my waist when he guided me through doorways. His palm on the small of my back at dinners.
Each touch made my skin crawl. Made me want to scrub myself raw. Made me bite my tongue so hard I tasted blood to keep from flinching away.
But I knew what was coming. Could see it in the way his eyes tracked me. The way he looked at me like I was a possession he was waiting to unwrap. The casual ownership in every gesture.
After the wedding, those touches would become something else entirely. Something I couldn't think about without nausea rising in my throat.
Breakfast every morning had become mandatory. I'd sit across from him at the small table in his private dining room, forcing down food I couldn't taste while he talked about wedding details.
"I've decided on orchids for your bouquet. White orchids to represent purity. Fitting for a virgin bride."
I'd nearly choked on my coffee. Managed to turn it into a cough.
Virgin. Right. That ship had sailed months ago in a hotel room with his son.
"That sounds beautiful. Thank you for putting so much thought into the details."
